EDA: Short Trips
by m.tarnina
Summary: Character sketches and a general testing ground specifically for the development of my EDA series. Rated just in case. Comments welcome. The series is being discontinued.
1. Figure Him Out (sketch of the Doctor)

Philomela was standing in front of her tent, one elbow resting on the sign which said "Secrets of the future revealed - Madame Philomela shall read your fate". Without interest, she was looking at the crowd that swarmed among the glittery fair stands, carrying heaps of toys, sweets and drinks. Children howling, out-of-breath parents trying to catch up with them, cooing pairs of sweethearts who passed Philomela by, fully absorbed in each other. On the stand nearby a bottle wobbled off the shelf and crashed, earning a good home for yet another weird nickel silver pendant. A horrifically pink balloon nearly brushed at Philomela's nose. It was momentarily followed by a child of unknown gender and very dirty face. 

Philomela watched the kid bump into a small teenage girl whose black braids almost shone against a dress even pinker than the balloon was. The girl squatted to chat with the child, then looked up at her companion, a man in a velvet jacket. With a radiant smile, he produced the horrid balloon from behind his back and handed it to the kid, bowing exaggeratedly. The kid skipped off. The artificial flowers in the girl's hair were aggressively tacky, but at least she knew her medieval dress. The man's clothes, however, were in late nineteen century style with velvet, a silk cravat and a mane of brown locks. Nice, she thought, mildly amused, if incongruous. He must be cooking alive in all this. 

"I saw a water seller, there." The girl gestured with her pink sleeve at the crowd.

"I'll wait for you." Her companion said. His voice was quite pleasant, with traces of Merseyside accent, she thought. The man walked up to Philomela, hiding from the sun in her tent's shadow. He put his hands into his pockets before pulling them out and wringing them in front of himself. Then he gave Philomela a friendly look.

"You see the future?" He asked.

She studied him, took note of a wistful, poetic look in his eyes and nodded.

"Are you concerned with your future fate? Or possibly your daughter's?"

He blinked, then smiled slightly.

"Oh, Elaine isn't my daughter."

Philomela committed this to memory.

"My ward, maybe. Although who guards whom is not always so straightforward."

"You do not worry about her, and yet I rarely meet someone not apprehensive about future at all."

"Well, so do I."

She pushed at the entrance curtain of her tent.

"We never know what fate shall bring." She said in as mysterious a voice as she could muster. It sometimes would put people in the right state of mind.

"Some light, however, may be cast."

The man gave her another smile. "Why not?"

* * *

The inside of the tent was minimally cooler than the outside. With a flourish, Philomela showed her client one of the wickerwork chairs, taking the other one for herself.

"Remember" she said "that proper reading of the signs is not an easy matter. As they refer to you on a very personal level, they may be obscure without this context."

The man nodded. Philomela stretched her hand towards him, jingling her bracelets just enough for the right effect.

"Then relax, give me your hand and allow the vibrations to circulate freely."

"Vibrations do not circulate."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"Vibrations" he simply said, "move in straight lines. There are, of course, standing waves, but-"

"I meant spiritual vibrations."

She saw a mischievous glint in the client's eye. No malice, surprisingly, just amusement.

"I didn't peg you for a sceptic." She muttered.

"I'm not. I'm very open-minded, you'll see." And there, another disarming smile. Philomela didn't have the heart to throw him out. Sceptic or not, he might still pay for a good show. She took hold of the man's palm, a wide and strong one, and brushed her fingers over it.

"Hmmm... shall we, then, start with your past... for past is pregnant with the present, and the present begets future..." she whispered.

The client said nothing, but Philomela felt no increase in tension and decided this was the right way. She stroked the inside of his palm.

"Years ago you left western England... mmm... difficult to say how many years..."

She paused dramatically, but the man kept his silence, so she tried to prod him a little.

"Were you not happy there?"

"In England? That's where I spent the best years of my life so far."

"Yes, yes, I can see it in the shape of your hand. However, your chained heart line indicates you were not satisfied with an ordered existence... You didn't leave for no reason..."

He shrugged slightly.

"No one does."

"Quite. Your travel lines are distinct... I can feel several, but the deepest and longest begins very close to your heart line..."

"Mhm."

"What can this mean?" Philomela mused out loud, forcing herself not to yell at the man, who remained silent. Bloody say something.

"The signs are vague... the worst may well be far behind you..." She risked a glance at his face. It was obscured with these dark hair of his, but the man seemed to be looking at their hands, lost in thought.

Suddenly he said "Maybe I just got lucky and took my chance."

Beggars can't be choosers.

"It is possible... your fate line is very visible and entagled with the heart line. It was a decision that required courage."

He chuckled.

"Or stupidity."

"You regret it."

"No. Looking back, I'm really glad I was so stupid. Irresponsible."

He looked up at her, and his eyes were blue and clear like aquamarine.

"I left everything to step on an unknown path, and I would probably have hesitated if I knew what would happen. But I would do it again."

Philomela nodded.

"Of course, I was older when I ran than you were. Maybe this made it easier. Less to lose."

She blinked.

"When you ran?" she muttered, not even bothering with the Pythia-on-acid act. He nodded.

"As you did, Philomela. From thanatos. I'm glad I did."

"I don't believe" escaped her lips, and he turned her hand in his and held it, as if he was comforting Philomela.

"The secret is to never stop."

She cleared her throat.

"Yes, well... ermmm..."

"Doctor!" a girl's voice called, muffled a little by the fabric of the tent. The client's palm slipped out of Philomela's hand. He stood up.

"I have to go."

He reached for the entrance curtain, but paused, briefly.

"Susan is a lovely name. Much nicer than Philomela."

With this, he left her, heart pounding.


	2. The Watchtower (sketch of the Doctor)

The sea was wine-dark.

Underneath the pink sky this simile seemed sort of accurate to the Doctor, more than it normally would. For the last couple of days he'd been looking at this sea a lot, he still wasn't tired of it, but wine was the last thing he would think of comparing it to. Turquoise, yes. Sky overhead, why not. But wine?

"See, was I right?" a merry voice said behind his back.

"The box is where it was, so it follows he must be around. Elementary logic, my boy."

With a smile, the Doctor turned to the new arrivals.

"I thought you'd sleep till noon."

The younger of two men, sporting an impressive beard over herculean chest, rolled his eyes. The other giggled, with a sideways glance at his friend.

"Aristocles never went to sleep" he said.

Aristocles, in a show of dignity, brushed some speck of dust off his chiton, then joined the Doctor, resting his elbows on the chalk stone parapet.

"I wanted to ask you some details about these superstrings." The Doctor blinked. He couldn't remember saying anything on the subject last night.

The older, white-haired Greek perched unceremoniously in the closest crenel.

"Mmm, pleasant place" he murmured. "Unless you've got a headache, eh?"

"If I drunk too much" Aristocles's growl startled the Doctor out of his reverie "I did so to forget you were there."

"And you still remembered the superstrings?" the Time Lord smiled.

"Any party you can walk away from is a good party" said the older man with authority, his forearm on the merlon.

"Have you no shame?" hissed his colleague, and he closed his eyes like a cat basking in the sun.

"What would I need it for?"

Aristocles shook his head.

"Strings. Doctor. You said they made up the Universe."

"The Universe can be considered as made up of strings" corrected the Doctor, unthinkingly. "Errm..."

"It can also be considered as a jug of wine" the other Greek muttered, to an indignant snort from Aristocles.

"Leave it, boy."

The Doctor seized the opportunity to change the subject.

"We all seek the same truth" he said "there's no reason to fight."

"Who's fighting? Apart from this fool here."

"Oh," the older man's eyes remained comfortably closed "I'd agree with anyone, me."

"As long as you can mooch off them" Aristocles snapped.

"Stop it, both of you."

"Mhm... careful, Doctor, he might get you to cough up these strings yet."

But Aristocles just rolled his eyes.

"We'll speak of this later" he said, eyes on his colleague. "Away from the coarse crowd. Right now I need a nap."

He spun and left, and the Doctor sat down with a sight, resting his back against the cool stone wall.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. He's, all in all, a kid. Shouldn't show him new toys."

"Makes you dread the direction civilisation is heading, eh?" The Doctor chuckled.

"It's heading where it always has been" replied his companion serenely.

A cool breeze ruffled their hair.

"Aristippus..."

"Mmm?"

"What do you think, is it worth the effort?"

"No. What exactly?"

The Doctor pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I could stay with you, drinking wine and avoiding discussion about strings..."

"Not for long" Aristippus said in a sober voice. "Stay if you want to. Dionysius will have to put up with it."

"The government's going to change in a couple of years" muttered the Doctor, but before he had a chance to realise he had said it, Aristippus snorted.

"Won't be much of a surprise."

The Doctor gave him a nod. "The moment will go."

"So?"

"So what?"

"That's my line. You know what I always say, Doctor. Smooth motion."

"Yes, I know."

Aristippus slid off the wall and stretched himself on the stone floor, hands under his head.

"Your problem" he said " is that you want something that doesn't exist."

"I do?"

"You're not alone in this. Pleasure is a smooth motion. You're trying to fix it when its essence is change."

"I'm not. I am a wanderer, as you know."

"So go and wander."

"What about the common good?" But the Doctor's sly-toned question only made Aristippus laugh.

"You've been listening to Aristocles too much."

"I'm not alone in this."

The clouds on the horizon were slowly turning white and more sheep-like. At the feet of the citadel the city was waking up, the first vendors, guards, artisans were walking out of their houses, but none of the noise reached the top of the watchtower.

"Just like he does" Aristippus said, propping himself on his elbows "you take everything too seriously."

"Everything is serious. And it's not."

"The kingdom belongs to a child, huh?"

The Doctor glanced at him. "You don't put pleasure foremost, either."

"Oh?" the philosopher raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Mhm. You said yourself, the key thing is to master it. Be able to let it go."

"But you need an occasion to do this. All you let go of when hiding in that box of yours, avoiding the world, is common sense."

"I'm not avoiding the world."

"No. You're unable to, in the long run."

"Does that mean the world has mastered me?" the Doctor asked, and Aristippus took a moment to think on this. "Guess so."

The Doctor nodded. The sea they saw from the tower was turquoise. On the horizon a sail appeared, like a purple blot.


	3. Chocolate (the Doctor and Elaine)

_The TARDIS likes ponies, AND she thinks they suit Elaine. Who would have thought? ;)_

The worst of all was the echo.

The metal plate floor made each step terribly loud, and the sound echoed off walls, white and smooth like mother-of-pearl. Elaine felt like she was the first person for ages to walk these corridors, and at the same time was terrified of alerting the entire retinue, of them coming and asking questions. Mind, maybe this would make her feel better. There wasn't a single speck of dust. When she looked into a dark side corridor, it would be instantly flooded with an odd glare, bright as a sunny afternoon, cold and pale like moonlight.

She tried her best to thread softly. Every once in a while she'd stop, wait for the echoes to die and then, hugging herself, walk on, not sure herself what she was looking for.

Suddenly she smelled something unfamiliar, sweetish, and at once realised that up to then, the corridor had no smell. No smell at all. Like in a dream.

There was a spicy warmth to the smell, but nothing like any soup or stew Elaine would know. Sweet, but not honey-like, rich, a little like roasted hazelnuts, but subtler. It made her think of smooth silk.

She found herself at a door, a smooth, nondescript door made of single white pane, like all the other doors here, and distinguished from the wall solely by its outline. Well, that and the smell that came from behind it.

Elaine reached out and the door slid aside.

The chamber wasn't large. There were wooden cabinets both hung on the walls and standing beside them, some connected by a counter-top. A number of colourful things littered it. In the middle of the room, on a bare square table, there was a jug with a lid and a swan-neck-shaped spout, and by the table there was the master of the house, deep in thought, staring at the waft of steam that rose from the faïence mug he was holding.

If it wasn't for the delicate glittering in the steamy plume, Elaine would think she was looking at a painting.

"Chocolate?"

She shook herself and walked up to him, grabbing a chair on the way.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Hot chocolate. Would you like some?"

She hesitated. Then again, in Hy Brasil, or wherever it was they've been, she and the Doctor had shared a meal, so there wasn't much point in caution now. She nodded. The Doctor stood up to get her another mug, this one adorned with a painting of a yellow pegasus with a pink mane that reached its hooves.

The Doctor poured some fragrant, brown drink from the jug. The drink felt hot through the ceramic. Elaine took a deep breath before taking a sip.

It tasted... she thought of velvet, of hazelnuts, of spiced confections they would have on Christmas Day. The chocolate was less sugary and sweet, but very smooth on the tongue.

"Mmm..."

The Doctor smiled at her, and Elaine, without even thinking, smiled back. There was a moment of friendly silence as they each sipped their chocolate.

"It's horribly quiet here" she finally blurted.

The Doctor raised his brow, making a face so ridiculous she couldn't hold back a giggle.

"The last couple of days weren't eventful enough?"

"No, no, on the contrary. I'm simply wondering where your retinue are. I haven't met anybody."

"I have no retinue."

Elaine laughed, but the Doctor looked her in the eye, serious.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Who makes the lights, then? And cleans, and cooks? And if this is a ship, who's steering it?"

The Doctor sighed, reminding her of a parent of an unruly child. Both resigned and affectionate.

"She steers herself. Won't even let me think I have anything to say, these days."

"She?"

"The TARDIS."

"Your ship has an intelligence of her own?" Come to think of it, why not? Elaine had no idea how large planets could be, she wouldn't have accused them of leaving the sky and wandering so freely, like the TARDIS did, either, but this would explain quite a lot.

Maybe the other planets are ships, as well? Maybe they have sailors on them, like the Doctor? Moon people?

The Doctor nodded.

"Oh. And you speak with her?"

"Sometimes."

Elaine looked into his sapphire eyes, and he added "But the TARDIS can't speak the way we understand speech."

"Mhm. So I finally know why you took me."

"I never meant to" huffed the Doctor.

"The only member of your household doesn't speak. I would go mad, living like this, like a hermit."

"I meet droves of people."

"But you live on your own" she sipped her chocolate.

"I swear" the Doctor put his mug aside. He looked, very sincerely, into Elaine's eyes. "I'll take you back home."

"You could stay with us, if you want" she offered, unthinkingly. During the last few days her anger at the Doctor waned, only to vanish completely at this very moment.

"Thank you."

Elaine touched his hand.

"You don't have to be homeless."

"I stand by my word. I promise you, you will go back home."

She felt the traveller was speaking sincerely, but nevertheless Elaine hid her smile behind the cup.


	4. Esthetics (character sketch)

_The Doctor, Elaine and someome who won't join the TARDIS team for a while yet, on the beach in Sopot. This was supposed to be a serious discussion about esthetics, honest ;)_

Grey waves were breaking on the grey shore, underneath the sky that resembled dirty grey felt. Tomasz rubbed his hands before shoving them into his pockets.

"What are you staring at, huh?" he asked a seagull. It spared him another lofty glance before hopping away to a topped rubbish bin, which currently was being rummaged in by several of her sisters. Not much further, behind a low grey wall built of stones, shadows of some tree's branches like cracks in her cobalt-blue shell, stood the TARDIS.

Tomasz spat out a wisp of hair that the wind seemed keen on pushing into his mouth. On his right hand, in the mist, he could barely discern the port and the towers of the city.

"Why didn't we land there?" he said out loud, but even if the Doctor heard him, it didn't show. He was standing there, eyes on the horizon, brown coat flapping in the wind, like a portrait of windblown lord Byron.

"If that makes you feel better" Elaine stammered "I'd like to go, too."

The heels of his shoes squeaked against the sand as he turned to look at her. Elaine was huddled under a coat – one not only much too large for her, but probably made from the sweepings from a tailor's shop. She was wearing colourful gloves and a rainbow-coloured beret pulled over her ears - she looked as if she'd stolen all the colour from the entire place, but it hadn't made her happy.

"I'm freezing" she said.

"Mhm. Hey, Mickiewicz!" Tomasz yelled. "Contemplation nearing the end?"

The Doctor, deep in thought, was silent. Tomasz shook his head.

"Summer must be beautiful here." There was an audible tremble to Elaine's voice.

"I'm sure" Tomasz spotted some dirty snow on the top of the wall. The seagulls started with an almighty squeak, angry for their sacking of the bin being disturbed.

"But we're unlikely to come here in the summer."

The snow was burning cold, and still wet. It scratched his hands, tried to escape between the fingers, unwilling to be kneaded into a proper ball.

But the Doctor's strangled shriek was well worth it.

"He-ey! Why?"

Elaine laughed out loud, Tomasz grinned.

"Now we're all cold. Mission accomplished! Can we go?"

"You're cold? Why didn't you two say anything?" The Doctor's companions exchanged meaningful glances, while he was brushing the snow out from his collar.

"Brr!"

"Really, couldn't we have landed in the city? Where there are hot things to drink?"

"Chocolate!" Elaine agreed enthusiastically.

The Doctor rubbed his neck with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. It's so beautiful here, I sort of forgot."

"Beautiful?"

Elaine drew the patchwork coat closer. "It's winter. Everything grey and dead."

"Come 'ere." The Doctor put his arm around her, pushed her gently towards the waves.

"Look. Really look."

"It's really all grey. And menacing, like it's growling at you to stay away."

"You think so?"

Tomasz snorted "Romantic. Can't convince him, kid."

Elaine stuck her tongue at him over the Doctor's shoulder.

"I'll tell you what I can see, looking at these waves" the Doctor said.

"I see something that has been before me, and will be here long after I'm gone. I'm a child next to it. So much to learn!"

"Romantic" Tomasz muttered, walking up them, hands in his pockets.

"And it's constantly changing. Reflecting the clouds. See there? Sunbeam makes this wave look like amber. Seagulls and swans wrinkle this surface, and every one of them has their own story. I could spend my entire life looking at this tiny bit of Atlantic, and even though I'll live longer than you two, I'd never run out of things to see."

"It's a bit... scary" Elaine whispered, moving closer to him.

"You know, the... size of it."

"Mhm."

"Nonsense" Tomasz shook his head. "Why stare at the water?"

The Doctor turned his head to look Tomasz solemnly in the eye "You wouldn't travel with us, if you really didn't understand."

"Maybe not."

"And yet, there's so many things I'll never see" the Time Lord continued. "No matter how fast I run. So, and this is the nicest part, I've no need to hurry. I can take as much time as I want."

"Romantic."

"Well, come on then" the Doctor said. "The sea's not going anywhere, and someone here wanted chocolate, am I wrong?"

Hand by hand with Elaine, we went towards the grey wall that separated the beach from nearby buildings. Tomasz glanced once more at the grey sky, before following them. The sand squeaked underneath his shoes.


End file.
